A mug’s game

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A mug's game 

With the flights in her sight 
She was doing all right 
And running along like a good 'un. 
Till she fell, the last fence, 
Should have used common sense, 
Not backing a horse with legs, wooden.

Second place

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Second place

Who's to blame
for second place,
the horse that tried
to win the race,
the jockey sat
upon his back,
the betting media's 
hackneyed hack,
the groundsman who
prepared the course,
the stable girl
who fed the horse,
a build up of
the acid, lactic,
the trainer and
his stupid tactics,
the bookie who
advised each-way
was not the clever
way to play,
or is it simply
hapless punter
who likes to blame
the world and chunter?

Flying Fish

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Flying Fish

There's a new craze in town,
To play when you're down.
WetBet is the race,
And I got third plaice.

The Racehorse

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The racehorse

eleven hundred
pounds of graceful thoroughbred
deciding my fate.
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